Bite My Tongue

When I saw Oliver in class the next day, I almost felt bad for him; keyword being almost. Because yeah, I couldn't help but feel sympathy for whatever shit he was going through that led to his breakdown yesterday. On the other hand, he was still an asshole, and the fact that he had a weak side didn't exactly change that.

No matter what I thought of him, I was still stuck with him as my partner for the stupid project, which we hadn't even started yet. The due date was still pretty far off, but we needed to at least get started. I wasn't exactly a genius, and Oliver didn't strike me as the gold-star-student type. There was only one problem with that: starting the project meant that I'd have to actually talk to him. And not only talk to him (which was scary enough by itself), but get an answer out of him that didn't involve him flipping me off.

I waited until he sat down at his desk (late, as usual) before turning around, steeling myself to say something. I was just going to ask when he wanted to start researching. Yeah, that was it. Casual, short, to the point. I could do that. I opened my mouth as he leaned up from dropping his backpack onto the floor-- and then I froze. It was as if the words had gotten stuck in the back of my throat, choking me. Oh god, I couldn't breathe. His eyes were on me, swallowing me whole. I couldn't speak, couldn't turn away, couldn't do anything but stare at him like an idiot. My hand started to tremble, and it was like my face was simultaneously going pale and blushing at the same time. If that was somehow possible.

"Hello?"

Oliver's voice snapped me back to reality. The sad, sad reality that was me speechlessly staring at him while he thought I was a creep. I tried to make my lips move to form words.

"H-hey," I finally got out.

Oliver continued to look at me, waiting for me to say something else. Fuck, what had I planned on saying before?

"I-I was wondering when we should s-start our p-project?"

He pursed his lips, giving me a look. "Don't you mean when should you start our project?"

I bit my lip. Any glimmer of hope I'd had about getting a somewhat civilized answer out of him had evaporated. As much as I hated to say it, Lee was right; the guy was a total dick. There was no way he was going to make me do the entire thing by myself. I didn't have much self-respect, but even I had a limit.

"No," I said flatly, trying to look intimidating while fully aware that I was failing miserably.

"No?" Oliver repeated, looking at me incredulously. "What the h--"

His annoyed retort was cut off as the teacher cleared her throat at the font of the room. He glared at me as I spun forward in my seat, and my mind frantically flipped back and forth, indecisively debating whether I was more angry or embarassed. As the Ms. Shinoda started to drone on about god-knows-what, I felt the my desk start to shake. I closed my eyes, trying to calm down enough to keep from outright screaming. Seriously, what the hell was his problem?

Ripping off a sheet of paper from the notebook that I should've been taking notes in, I quickly scrawled down a few words.

Stop it!

I neatly folded the paper in half, making sure that the edges of the paper lined up before I passed it backwards. I felt the paper snatched out of my hand, and waited impatiently for Oliver to reply. After a moment, the paper glided back onto my desk. I unfolded it, narrowing my eyes at the words that he'd written.

Make me.

Groaning in frustration, glanced down at the ground to see where Oliver was bumping my chair. I aimed a kick at his foot, but he pulled his foot away and I slammed into the metal chair leg. I heard him chuckling behind me, and penciled another line on the paper.

Shut up.

This time, the paper was slapped back on my desk much more quickly.

Fuck you.

If it was something that people actually did, I'd have been seeing red. Why did Oliver have to be such a twat? There were so, so many things that I wanted to say to him. Most of which would definitely get me a detention if someone else were to read this paper. I poised my pencil above the paper, trying to determine which retort would piss him off the most. Unlike when I spoke, I couldn't stutter when I wrote.

But...we still had to do this report together. And if I made him upset, then there would be even less of a chance that he'd actually chip in and do some work. Sighing, I erased the beginnings of the insult that I'd started to write. It wouldn't erase, and I pressed harder, trying to get the annoying smudges to disappear. Much to my frustration, I ended up ripping the paper. I tried to write around it, but the hole was bothering me. My eyes kept returning to it, and I eventually gave up and pulled out another sheet of paper.

Listen, can we just quit this bullshit until this dumb project is over?

Oliver's reply was short.

Why?

I slapped my hand against my forehead. What could I possibly say to get it through his thick skull that we didn't have any other choice?

Nothing. Literally, nothing. As much as I hated to admit it, there were no words that could somehow make Oliver actually give a shit. And yes, that definitely annoyed me to no end. Crumbling up the paper, I resigned myself to listening to the teacher. Because even the torture of class was better than arguing with Oliver.

When the bell rang at the end of class, I was ready. Oliver bolted, as I knew he would. And today, I was ready for him. He wasn't going to get away so easily.

I jogged after him, reaching out and grabbing the back of his bag. I cringed as he spun around and glared at me.

"What the fuck do you want?" he hissed, although the venom didn't seem to reach his eyes. In fact, they were glancing around anxiously, as if he was looking for someone.

"I want to t-talk to you, that's what," I snapped.

"I have to get to class," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, like you c-care about that," I retorted.

"Listen, you little--"

He was interrupted by an obnoxious yell coming from down the hallway. "Oli!" came the voice. "Is that you?"

"Shit," Oliver muttered under his breath, starting to inch away.

"Aw, Shites, don't go!"

Wait a second, I knew that voice. I knew that ridiculous letterman jacket, that gelled knockoff-50s-look brown hair. It was Lee.

"Shites, wait, we only just found you!"

Was he...was he talking about Oliver? I looked to the side where Oliver had been standing, but he'd managed to shuffle halfway down the hall. He had a somewhat terrified expression on his face, almost as if he was scared of Lee. But the idea that someone actually managed to intimidate Oliver seemed ridiculous to me.

Lee and a few of his friends (which sadly didn't include Matt) were coming closer to where I was standing in the middle of the hall, and Oliver was practically running at this point. I didn't know what to do, not wanting to get involved in whatever the hell was happening here.

By the time Lee got to where I stood, Oliver was long gone. I wished that I'd gone with him; making awkward conversation with Lee was on the top of my list of things that I never wanted to have to do. And yet here I was. This day was just getting better and better.

"Hey, John," Lee said.

"It's Josh," I corrected, wrinkling my nose in annoyance.

"Yeah, whatever," he rolled his eyes. Since Matt wasn't there, he didn't have to pretend to like me. "Did you see which way Shites went?"

I'm not sure why I said the next words that came out of my mouth. Because in all honesty, I pretty much hated Oliver. Truly. But I hated Lee even more.

"Um, I-I think he w-went that way," I replied, pointing my finger down the crowded side hallway. Which, incidentally, happened to be in the opposite direction from the way that he went.

Lee nodded his thanks, then ran off without another word. Turning away, I started to head to my next class. Why the hell was I covering Oliver's ass? He didn't deserve it, not really. Not that he deserved whatever Lee was planning to do to him, either. How had I managed to get in the middle of all of this?

Maybe I just attracted assholes. That's how I'd ended up with Oliver, and then with Lee. Personally, I'd have preferred something a little on the nicer side, but I guess it was just my luck. I'd just have to suck it up and talk to him again tomorrow, because like or not, I was stuck with Oli Shites.

Although he was probably thinking the exact same thing about me.